Summer Breeze
by InterNutter
Summary: My first XME fic. Kurt's old circus troupe comes to Bayville and it isn't as much fun as everyone hopes. Pointless fluff, but fun. It's COMPLETE!


Disclaimer: X-Men:Evolution belongs to the very nice people at Warner  
Brothers, Stan Lee, and a host of others. I just play with words and  
hope nobody steals my ideas.  
  
Disclaimer#2: Everything I know about American holidays, I learned from  
TV. I live in another continent. That's my excuse if I screw things up  
and I'm sticking to it :)  
  
ObInfo: This is my first XME fanfic, in fact, my first X-Men fanfic at  
all; but it is *not* My First Ever Fanfic, so you're allowed to be cruel  
in any reviews. I wanna be a Nauthor when I grow up ;) [misspelling on  
purpose there]  
  
Archiving: Email cat@devil.com and ask nice. Tell me why you liked it in  
approximately 100 words :) ;) [joking :) ]  
  
Summer Breeze  
InterNutter  
  
"SPRING BREAK!"  
Professor Charles Xavier winced at the collective shout from his  
students, put a mark in his book, and gave up completely on finding any  
peace and solitude until the summer holidays were over. Teenagers of any  
sort were naturally exhuberant in the warmer months, but for some  
obscure reason that he couldn't nail down, mutant teenagers had more  
than twice as much pent-up energy to expend.  
He would indulge them for a few weeks, then gently remind them of  
their duties. Considering the year it had been, his X-Men deserved some  
time off.  
  
"Summer," Kitty Pryde sighed as she dropped her bag behind the common  
room couch and slumped into it upside-down. "Don't you just like, *love*  
that word? Don'cha just *love* the whole season?"  
Kurt Wagner, still ricochetting around the room like a hyperactive  
jumping bean, said, "It has its ups and its downs. But mostly ups."  
"Says the guy who wears fur all year round," quipped Rogue.  
"At least you can switch to lycra..."  
"Summer is *all* ups," argued Kitty. "Like, nothing to do all day, the  
freedom to do whatever you want, whenever you want..."  
Rogue, prone to agree, added her two cents, "Eating ice cream until  
you get sick..."  
"The open road, the wind in your hair," reminisced Kurt. He came to a  
halt after a final few somersaults that co-incidentally put him within  
casual-contact reach of Kitty.  
Now the trio had visions of Summers Past dancing through their heads,  
and felt compelled to trip down memory lane.  
"The smell of hot asphalt is like, *so* Summer,"  
"Naw, it's the smell of a thunderstorm brewin'."  
"Fresh sawdust," sighed Kurt.  
Kitty raised an eyebrow. Maybe it was a German thing. "Like.  
Whatever..."  
"I still say Summer has it's downers," said Rogue. "Like Summer  
assignments."  
"Or burning your bare feet on the road," added Kitty.  
"Mucking out the Elephants..."  
This was *not* a German thing. "WHAT?"  
"Hm?" Kurt popped back into reality. "So I used to work in the circus  
during Summer. So what?"  
"*You*? Lookin' like you do?" Rogue leaned forward. "What was it, the  
'Man Or Beast' Sideshow?"  
"*Rogue*!" Kitty scolded.  
"For your information, I was with the Flying Amazements," Kurt had  
gone into formal indignance. "I could pull stunts that had them  
screaming in their seats."  
"The flying whatwhats?"  
"Evan, if you're going to listen in, at least *listen*. It's the  
Flying Amazements."  
Evan held up a poster. "You mean something like these guys?"  
It announced, when one filtered out all the breathless superlatives,  
excess verbiage and extremely tacky visuals, that a circus featuring The  
Flying Amazings was going to be coming soon.  
"That *is* the old troupe. More or less," Kurt scanned over the  
poster. "I see the General is still running things."  
"Who?" By now, the entirety of the X-Men had their curiosity piqued.  
"Long story," Kurt waved them off. "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't  
be standing here today."  
"So you like, totally owe him a favour."  
Kurt was staring at the poster. "I owe him *something*..."  
  
A circus coming to town is something to be appreciated by - as Barnum  
and Bailey are wont to say - children of all ages. Such was definately  
true in the Institute, save for one fuzzy resident.  
Kurt spent half of his time lurking in corners, watching as the others  
reminisced on circuses they'd seen, or prattled about what this new one  
might have. The other half of his time, he spent pacing the hallways, as  
if in search of some elusive thing that was never to be found.  
By and large, because of the general air of summertime anticipation,  
his behaviour was dismissed. The others didn't see him as being on edge,  
they saw what they felt, excitement and anticipation.  
  
"Just like coming home?" Kitty asked once past the ticket men.  
"Not - quite." Kurt, hidden behind the illusion of humanity, checked  
his watch, then his pockets, where two other holographic watches were  
concealed.  
The other X-Men had already dissipated into the crowds; some seeking  
the rides, others searching the sideshows, and a very few wishing to  
inspect the wild animals.  
"What's the matter? Don'cha wanna like, meet up with your old pals?"  
"Ja... but --" He sighed. "It's not like coming home at all."  
Kitty stopped, matching Kurt's far mor reluctant pace. She hadn't seen  
this cagey stance or degree of innate nervousness since - since she'd  
met him. "So, what is it like?"  
"It's like coming home and discovering they made your old  
neighbourhood a - a strip mall."  
Kitty stared around. It looked just like every other circus she'd been  
in. Maybe that was the point. By unspoken agreement, they both gave the  
freakshow a wide berth, and wound up in a maze of tents advertising  
different distractions. Only here did Kurt breathe a sigh of relief.  
Kitty didn't see the difference. Sure, some old german signs had been  
painted over with newer, zippier colours and names, but they were the  
same win-a-doll or just-spend-money distractions she'd seen in every  
carney ever made.  
"Now *this* is more like coming home," Kurt grinned, seeing through  
the new paint. "Before I convinced my parents I *really* wanted to join  
the Amazements, I used to run through all these tents. I had to climb or  
swing on every rope..."  
"And scare every customer," added an older voice from a dark tent  
painted with stars. "I'd say welcome back, but I was told you'd left for  
good."  
Kurt turned to face the figure Kitty could barely make out. "Margali!  
We bist du?"  
Kitty squinted into the dark just as the old woman emerged.  
Margali was tall, and carried her age well. She gave the impression of  
having seen centuries pass, and therefore possessed the wisdom of the  
ages. Her dark, curled hair held only a faint trace of grey, just like  
her face refused to hold the lines of age.  
She knocked her sign with her staff. "It's 'Madam Magda', these days,  
and the General doesn't like us to go talking in anything but English.  
Even to old friends from home."  
Kurt made a noise. "The General can just go and --"  
"That would be physically impossible. And I think your professor would  
object to you using such language."  
Kitty was personally amazed. "So you *can* read the future?"  
"Of course, Katherine. My eyes aren't any good in the present, but  
they can see further than you would believe."  
"Stow the sales pitch, Margali," Kurt laughed. "You *know* that none  
of us were really certain you're as blind as you say you are."  
"I am blind," Margali laughed right back. "Just less of a fool than  
many."  
"And you're staying with the General because-?"  
"I'm still a fool." Margali smiled as she closed her tent. "Come. We  
can talk away from the glamour. And I hope, away from the General."  
"Is he still calling everyone 'boy' or 'girl'? Or has he possibly  
become more annoying lately?"  
Kitty, perforce tagging behind, was feeling more and more like an  
intruder. She'd already crossed the invisible boundary between the  
circus' 'stage' and 'backstage' without comment. She was treated to  
sights that the paying public rarely got to see, and if they did, they  
politely ignored it and suspended disbelief.  
There were clowns with half their makeup on, seeking pieces for their  
costumes. There were glittering highwire people stretching, scratching,  
and sharing a smoke like regular street folks. A decapitated animal  
costume hung forlornly on its stand. Contortionists untangled themselves  
for a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Tumblers practiced routines. The  
Steel Jaw Man washed his mouthpiece.  
There were few people who obviously didn't fit. Like Kitty. And the  
rather large, obnoxious stogie in a plaid suit incoming from two  
o'clock.  
"I thought I recognised that voice!" Boomed the stranger. His  
undelicate aroma instantly made Kitty gag. "One of the Wagners, right?  
They all talk in the same range, even the wimmin."  
Kurt and Margali had stiffened into posts at his approach.  
"General."  
"General."  
"Damned if'n you don't sound like someone I know, boy." The General  
crouched to puff cigar smoke at Kurt. He screwed up his eyes into piggy  
pinpoints and then yawped with recognition. "KURT! You start shavin',  
boy?"  
Now Kitty knew why Kurt had spoken this sleazebag's name like an  
epithet. She kept silent, glaring curses in the General's direction.  
Kurt, too, kept his silence. Mostly. "What I do, or don't do, is none  
of your business. General."  
"Awwww... come *on*, boy. The General was just kiddin' with ya. He  
knows that you couldn't stay away from him. The circus is in your blood,  
boy, you deny the pull of sawdust."  
"I happen to be a paying customer, just like my friends."  
"Pshaw... Freaks don't get friends. They get profits and pay for  
them."  
Kitty started wondering if she could do something nasty to his innards  
by phasing them. The logistics were going to prove entertaining,  
especially the gross-out factor.  
"They get more friends than *you've* ever earned."  
Kurt and Margali turned to stare at her. The General just stared.  
Kitty didn't believe she'd said such a thing out loud.  
"And what would you know about it, little girl?" asked the General.  
"You shouldn't even *be* here. The General -- *I* am just catching up  
with an old act. Now run along and get yourself some candy floss, eh?  
Don't worry your pretty little head about any of this stuff."  
Kitty toured around him to hang her arm through Kurt's. "Thanks,  
'General', but I think I'll stick with my friends."  
That left the General in enough of an open-mouthed shock for the trio  
to make good their escape. Margali sealed him out of any further  
conversation when they reached her trailer, by locking the door. Sure,  
he could thump and pound on the door, but that would make for a worse  
scene than he'd just experienced. Plus there'd be more witnesses.  
Kitty had noticed a certain closeness in the trailers around  
Margali's, as if they were shrinking away from the rest of the circus  
and huddling together for mutual protection. It must have worked, at  
least *inside* the trailers, because Kurt relaxed enough to turn his  
hologram off and finally let his guard down.  
Margali's trailer was an ecclectic mix of old world and new. The tiny  
kitchen showed hints of the best money could buy, while the festoon of  
lace covering the window almost hid a wreath of garlic. There were  
hints, here and there, that Margali was best at home in one of the old-  
style gypsy wagons, plodding along at just-past-walking speed and  
letting the world come to her. An old scarf edged in teensy gold coins  
acted as an antimacassar for the coffee table, and the utilitarian  
plastic and vinyl furniture was buried beneath drifts of handmade  
pillows and quilts.  
Kitty was slightly afraid to touch any of the beautiful craftwork, and  
almost yelped in alarm to see Kurt flomp down in a pile of it like a kid  
jumping onto his parent's bed. At least she recovered quickly enough to  
look natural while following Kurt's lead - nearly. She edged into a  
seat, nervous of making a mark, and held her courtesy tea well away from  
leaving any nasty drips on the beautiful things around her.  
Margali's chair was her throne, and held her frame with a neatness  
that belied the fact that most of it was soft-sculpted out of hundreds  
of works of art. A basket, nearly concealed by three pillows and a  
comforter, held more works of art in progress.  
Kurt sighed appreciatively after his first sip of the tea. "So tell  
me, how *is* the old troupe? You didn't want to talk out there."  
"Is it any wonder? The old troupe is whittling away. The Guismanns  
were the first, after your parents retired, of course."  
"Of course," echoed Kurt. He obviously knew about his adopted family.  
"I can just guess why the Guismanns left. Horse acts?"  
Margali nodded grimly. "*And* he wanted to legally change their name  
to the Geisselthals."  
"Uh..." said Kitty. "I don't get it. What's so bad about --"  
"The Guismanns are centaurs," answered Kurt. "Not many of their people  
ever leave the Geissel valley - and now you know why."  
"They *used* to be strong men and tumblers," added Margali, strictly  
for Kitty's benefit. "Before that hack General showed up. Now - they are  
farmers, and not very happy ones."  
"I didn't even know centaurs were *real*," whispered Kitty.  
"Just like fuzzy blue elves, nein?"  
Kitty blushed. Just a handful of minutes with two people from 'the old  
troupe', and she was starting to feel like she'd been raised in a  
cloister.  
"The Guismanns never left Germany. But after the rest of us did, the  
General started playing his favourite game."  
"I know the one," said Kurt. "Let's-See-Where-The-Line-Is-And-What-  
Happens-When-The-General-Crosses-It."  
"Ja," growled Margali. "That's the one. He broke up the Amazements  
into 'wierd' and 'not wierd', left the 'not wierd's with newbies from  
the states, and put the rest into the sideshow. One by one the  
Amazements drifted out - from both parties. That was when our 'friend'  
the General started to try and buy people off."  
"I can imagine how successful that was," sarcasmed Kurt.  
"By the time we left Europe, we weren't quite the German circus he'd  
bought for America. We were an American circus with German guests."  
Margali continued to spin her tale, where whole families either drifted  
apart or stormed away. The list of those threatening to leave was just  
as extensive as those who had already left.  
Kitty could, as the chat went on, picture how well Kurt had fit in  
with the old troupe. It had been full of people who just happened to be  
different. There had been a family of contortionists with a set of extra  
arms - until the General wanted to show them off as 'human insects'.  
What with them, the centaurs, and a bunch of others, one little blue elf  
would hardly raise an eyebrow. Among the troupe, that is.  
The real world, as Kitty knew, was completely different. The General  
was proof enough of that. He thought he could buy and sell people  
because they weren't like him, and treat them as property because he  
thought he'd bought them.  
"Can't you like, curse him or something?"  
Margali just shook her head. "No my dear. Curses have a way of coming  
back to you. The worst I can do to the General is leave him with the  
consequences of his actions."  
"That's *it*?"  
"That's tougher than you think," said Kurt. "Margali did the same to  
me when I was five - and had stolen some candy... By the end of a week I  
was so knotted up with guilt that I could barely eat."  
"I don't think the General 'does' guilt, though."  
"He'll get his own," said Margali. "He'll get his own."  
  
Kitty saw the circus again with fresh eyes after her encounter with  
the old troupe. She'd met people who, had they sat next to her on a bus,  
would have engendered nervous paranoia and a lot of not-really-staring.  
The new troupe were homogenised, sugar-coated, mass-produced-for-easy-  
consumption 'norms'. Even though many of them were different colours,  
they were bland compared to the diversity of the old troupe.  
The rest of the X-men caught up to them just as they'd bought enough  
candy products to last until Halloween - or at least make themselves  
heartily sick. To Kitty Pryde, at least, Summer wasn't Summer without  
turning one's tongue an unusual colour and a huge stomach-ache to boot.  
Or a funny hat. Or a doll from one of the many win-a-doll stands. Or a  
little flag...  
Needless to say, other X-Men had similar ideas. Some slipped more  
easily into the carnival atmosphere than others. Like Kurt, concealed  
once more in his hologram and grudgingly holding a small plush  
menagerie for Kitty.  
Scott had on one of those idiotic hats-with-your-name-on-it, while  
Jean had managed to get away with a simple pair of bunny ears. Rogue,  
meanwhile, *had* to be wearing that sombrero on a dare. Likewise Evan  
and his "Kiss the Fool" jester's hat. All must have reached an unspoken  
agreement not to laugh at each other's headgear.  
As for the adults, whatever prizes they'd gleaned from the melee of  
the carnival, they must have concealed them before meeting up with the  
rest.  
Like the rest of the crowd, they ambled together into the huge tent,  
squinting in the slightly fusty darkness until they could see their  
seats, then chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the show to  
begin.  
Kurt was looking up at the high-wire with a wistful gaze, before his  
longing eyes drifted to the trapeze. He traced ghosts of memories  
through the rigging, and wound up slightly melancholy.  
"Miss the old days?" Kitty asked.  
"Yes - and no. In a sense, the old days died when *he* showed up. It's  
just - I sort of wish I had not left when I did."  
"Puh-leeez, Kurt. You and I both know that idiot would'a had you in a  
cage or something faster'n you could like, blink."  
"Ja... with little horns glued on."  
"It's not fair. I mean, he like, *bought* what your old troupe *was*,  
and then decided it wasn't good enough or something."  
"He told us we were a 'fixer upper'. To our faces."  
"Jerk."  
"Ja."  
  
By the time the show started, Kitty was as silent as Kurt, glaring at  
each act. Kurt knew the difference between the old troupe's routines and  
the General's 'better' acts, but Kitty had to figure it out.  
She knew she had it when she realised that anything she hadn't seen in  
circuses all over the states, had to be a genuine old troupe article.  
The audience could tell the difference too. They clapped at acts from  
the USA, but they *applauded* the German acts. The old troupe, though  
dissipated almost into non-existance, still had their audience captured.  
Even Kitty leaned forward when the ringmaster announced that the next  
act was 'all the way from distant Europe'. Every such act had that  
effect, even the acts that had been toned down or cut back for the  
'newbies' from the USA.  
Then the 'freak' acts came out, and one by one the X-Men began to sit  
on their hands. Old troupe or new, the General's idea of entertainment  
was to belittle and exhibit anything different in an attempt to breed  
intolerance.  
One by one, the X-men were thinking, _That could have been me, in  
another time._  
The rest of the audience, too, fell gradually silent, their usual  
murmur dropping to ashamed whispers.  
Then Kurt spoke, in a low breath of a whisper in Kitty's ear,  
"Definitely little horns and a cage."  
Kitty saw the next 'freak' act being cued. She knew the twins from  
Kurt and Margali's reminiscences as part of the Flying Amazements. They  
were transformed by the General into 'wolfmen' to tumble and howl at the  
audience - not to mention chase a dwarf round the ring a few times.  
Cloistered as she felt, Kitty *knew* that these twins had a rare  
genetic trait, shared with hundreds of other 'dog-faced' people around  
the world. Many, she knew, were just ordinary hirsute people and quite  
capable of living their lives in peace and not being treated like a  
werewolf. Therefore, when they went into their tumbling act, the epitome  
of grace and agility, Kitty began to weep.  
"Kitty? Are you okay?" It was Ororo, not Kurt, who asked her.  
"I don't feel so good anymore," she answered. "I wanna go home."  
She was almost surprised by the chorus of 'me too's from her  
teammates. Almost.  
  
They triggered an exodus from the tent, but many of those that  
followed them outside went straight back into the carny. As the X-Men  
piled into the van or Scott's car, Kitty could see what Margali had  
meant.  
People were leaving, and many would spread the word that the General's  
circus was not what it was cracked up to be.  
Part of her Summer had died, all the same.  
What she didn't know was that something else was going to grow in its  
place.  
  
That night was a bad night for just about everyone. Kitty woke up from  
incohate nightmares at something-past-two-ish and gave up on sleep. She  
couldn't rest with visions of the General in her head. Rogue was already  
up, or hadn't even gone to bed yet. It was hard to tell, since her bed  
was a permanent rumple-fest.  
Kitty phased her way down to the next floor and made her way to the  
kitchen. Maybe some hot chocolate and a comfy chair would help...  
As she opened the door, several X-Men turned to identify her and greet  
her with muted murmurs and much handwaving. There was something about  
the wee small hours that insisted on a reverential silence, even when  
just about everyone seemed to be up. Or had the exact same idea.  
Dressing gowns and blankets abounded, as did large, steaming mugs and  
the gentle scent of marshmallows as they melted into gooey chunks of  
sweet mush.  
Without a word, Ororo handed Kitty a huge mug and gestured at a chair.  
She must have been the last one to wake up with quasi-nightmares. Except  
for --  
"Where's Kurt?"  
There was a round of shrugs.  
"Near as I can tell, dude's still asleep," Evan murmured.  
"Damn elf can sleep through the apocalypse if it suited him," yawned  
Rogue.  
"Well, colour *me* jealous," said Kitty as she made herself  
comfortable. "I mean, I only *met* that General guy yesterday an' he  
like, gave me nightmares. Kurt *knew* him."  
"You met the General?" said Scott.  
"What was he like?" asked Jean.  
Kitty told them.  
"*Barf*..." said Jean.  
"Gag," said Rogue.  
"D'Ewwww..." added Evan.  
"Makes me wish my glasses had slipped," said Scott. "Whoops. Bye-bye  
profit margin."  
There was a chorus of evil laughter.  
"Students, *please*," the Professor sighed. "Unfortunates like the  
General shouldn't be thought of in terms of hatred. That only makes  
things worse - for all of us."  
"But - he's a *jerk*."  
"That's still not grounds to wish him harm."  
"Aw, come on Prof. - *you* saw what he was doing to the people in  
there," Kitty pleaded. "He's the sort of idiot who doesn't want his  
taxes to like, go to disabled access ramps and stuff."  
"Yeah," added Rogue. "The nuke-'em-all-and-shoot-'em-inna-dark type."  
"The kind of man," said Evan, "who freely uses the 'N' word."  
"Then he is to be pitied," said the Professor, "and nothing more."  
The X-Men watched him go, stunned at both his words and the air of  
finality.  
"I don't get it," said Evan at long last. "What could a bruise or  
three in the name of equality *do*?"  
"Breed more intolerance," said Ororo. "Acting up against people like  
the General like that can only make more of him."  
"*I* get it," said Kitty. "Beat up on the General and you make enemies  
out of his family and friends. And they tell *their* family and friends.  
It gets like, totally exponential on you. Like, *fast*."  
"Assuming he *has* friends," said Rogue. "Or that his family ain't  
disowned him."  
"*Nasty*..." laughed Evan.  
"You don't get it. Even if he has five friends, that's five times more  
people than him that are totally against people like us. And if *they*  
each have five friends..."  
"I get it. Six degrees of separation from your-mutant-ass-is-toast,"  
said Evan.  
"Like, *totally*."  
"Ouch," said Rogue. "No wonder Kurt and the others would rather leave  
than make waves."  
"Maybe," said Jean with the air of someone turning over a rather large  
idea. "Maybe instead of thinking what we could do *to*... we should  
think about what we could do *for*."  
Ororo nodded drowsily at that concept with a tired smile.  
"You mean *for* the General?" Rogue made a face. "I'm thinkin' nothin'  
short of a complete lobotomy..."  
"Wrong direction," said Kitty. "For Kurt."  
Grins broke out around the table, except for Ororo, who'd fallen  
asleep sitting up.  
  
{P'tang}... {P'tang}... "Waugh!" {KER-ash!}  
"*Care*-ful! We spent five hours on those things."  
"No, left! *Left*, damnit! Your *other* left?"  
"Oh, you mean *your* left."  
Kurt risked opening an eye.  
"That's what I said. Left."  
"Ready? On three..."  
"Is that like, *on* three or *after* three?"  
Well, apart from the audio, everything seemed normal.  
"Keep it *down* willya? You're gonna wake him up!"  
"Pot, kettle, black..."  
"Shut *u-up*..."  
"You shut up."  
Kurt gradually rose from his bed, stretching out various muscular  
kinks as he did so. "Vas ist--?" he wondered aloud. He took a step  
towards the window, then changed his mind. If his new 'family' were all  
*outside*...  
That meant he had prime dibs on the bathroom. And the shower. *And*  
the hot water.  
Kurt grinned. Whatever furforal his teammates were up to, it could  
wait. There was going to be absolutely *no* fighting over who needed the  
hairdryer more, this morning.  
Besides, whatever they were doing out there, it was probably some  
American thing.  
  
Dibs on the hash browns, the hotcakes, the scrambled eggs *and* the  
bacon. Life didn't often *get* this good. Kurt belched - slightly guilty  
of his excess, but not by much - in a satisfied manner and decided to see  
what sort of American mayhem his friends were up to.  
"SHHH!"  
"Shuddupherehecomes!"  
"SHHH!"  
"...it."  
"*Way* mature, Evan. Not."  
"*Shaddup*..."  
Needless to say, Kurt was more than a little cautious about the closed  
door in front of him. Was it rigged to explode? Was there a cunning  
mechanism involving a bucket of something on the other side? Or was it  
just his friends with a bunch of primed hoses and a gargantuan share of  
malevolent glee.  
Kurt rewound the events of previous weeks in his head as he listened  
to the muffled giggling and 'shh's on the other side. No, he couldn't  
*easily* recall doing anything that would warrent such nefarious  
behaviour en masse, as it were... but all the same, maybe they had  
decided to pay him back for the deeds he'd inevitably do anyway.  
Then again, he could always *bypass* the door altogether.  
{BAMF!}  
"Thereheis!Gettim!"  
"Ack!"  
There was no time to think, only a cluster of tackling teammates and a  
certain unnerving dimension of malevolent glee. They blindfolded him,  
turned him around until he threatened to fall over, then guided him - if  
unsteadily - somewhere on the grounds.  
_Duckpond,_ thought Kurt. _It has to be the duckpond. All those weeds  
and all that slime and mud. It'd take forever to get it all out of my  
fur._  
"Okay. Lemme check the angle..."  
_A kick in the hinder *into* the duckpond..._ Kurt sighed. Vengeance  
for this one was going to be tricky. He had to balance his own revenge  
against their desire to strike back. Maybe if he just messed with their  
heads...  
"Three meters back."  
Kurt felt himself being telekinetically moved. "Vas?" If it wasn't the  
duckpond, then it was going to be *truly* elaborate.  
"Great," announced Kitty. She gently siezed his shoulders and turned  
him a little to the left, a smidge to the right. "Nearly... Now just  
angle your chin up a bit."  
_Very, *very* elaborate. I may have to cry in public._  
"Okay. You can like, totally take off the blindfold now."  
Completely on guard for just about anything and ready to 'port out in  
an instant if he needed to, Kurt removed the scarf over his eyes.  
"SURPRISE!"  
"Like, merry unbirthday or whatever, fuzzy!"  
"Unglaublich..." Kurt whispered, stunned at the sight.  
The X-Men had built him a high-wire rig in the backyard. It wasn't  
just the high-wire. It was the whole shebang. Trapeze and all. They even  
had little X-flags snapping in the breeze from the top.  
"I thought you were up to something," he said, turning to his grinning  
teammates. "This is - this is... This is *NUTS*!"  
Then, the recriminations began.  
"It was Jean's idea."  
"Kitty thought of most of it."  
"Scott did all the research."  
"No way! Rogue helped..."  
"Evan did like, all the pegs."  
"Did not! And you made the flags."  
"Logan helped with most of the metalwork - before he an' Storm  
realised we were serious and bugged out on us."  
"The Prof. kept tabs on you for us."  
"You sure he didn't make sure he stayed asleep?"  
"I *told* you the fuzzy dude could sleep through anything."  
"Comes from living next to elephants, I'm sure."  
"Hey! Like, play nice!"  
By now, Kurt was laughing. His friends, his wonderful friends, had  
made part of his Summers-past a reality in his new home. And now they  
were arguing over who deserved to be thanked first.  
This was going to be the best Summer ever. Especially after he tought  
a few of his friends to fly. 


End file.
